


star light, star bright

by thunderylee



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, M/M, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-31
Updated: 2008-05-31
Packaged: 2019-02-05 12:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12794391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: One star shines brighter than the others, even if he doesn’t think so.





	star light, star bright

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

It’s like a movie, or maybe a slideshow, projecting his life before his eyes as it happens. Not so much an out-of-body experience but actions and words that are not his own, like playing a drama character 24/7 without knowing the script in advance. He wonders when he lost control of himself and when his personality morphed into what everyone else wants him to be, resulting in this empty, pretty shell just like the ones that seep between his toes on the beach.

Yamapi watches the waves come in and out, noting that soon he’ll have to move up the shore unless he wants the tide to wash over him. He’s not sure yet. He’s not sure of much of anything except what people tell him to be sure of. His feelings are constructed by strangers.

This is supposed to be a vacation. He’s supposed to be happy and not thinking about work. That’s good for the people back at the cabin, the lively souls with an abundance of personality between the five of them. Not Yamapi, who doesn’t know how to behave when he’s not in front of a camera anymore. He just sits there and watches the others carry on about things that excite them, things that make them _feel_ and Yamapi wonders when the last time he got really excited was. He’s always excited on stage but it’s become expected, the Yamapi who is the leader of NewS and keeps everyone motivated is more like a nine-to-five day job that never ends.

He’s not surprised when he hears someone else’s footsteps in the sand. He knows they worry. Yamapi likes to be left alone, Yamapi doesn’t sleep very much, what he really needs to tell them is that Yamapi doesn’t know who he is when he’s not _Yamapi_. Yamashita Tomohisa doesn’t exist, hasn’t for several years.

The water bridges his toes and he makes no effort to move.

The other person plops right down next to him and doesn’t say a word. It’s Shige, which does surprise him, as Shige is not one to actively seek him out. They go out sometimes, but it’s comfortable. Yamapi doesn’t have to put on an act for Shige; he can just sit there and watch the world go by without him. He doesn’t have to do anything to impress Shige. Shige doesn’t make him feel like he needs to entertain.

“Yamashita-kun likes the sea, right?” Shige finally says, and the way he says it makes it sound like he’s been thinking about it since before he sat down.

Yamapi nods. “Yeah.”

“It’s relaxing,” Shige goes on. “Calm.”

Another nod.

“It shines bright even in the dead of night.”

Yamapi tilts his head, considering that statement. The moonlight that reflects off of the timid water is shiny indeed, but he wouldn’t call it bright.

“It’s a metaphor,” Shige explains. “It means that things – people – are just as beautiful when nobody’s around to see.”

“I don’t like metaphors,” Yamapi replies, frowning a little. “I think that people should come out and say what they want to say.”

“They won’t,” Shige says. “People will always be too afraid of the other person’s reaction to be honest like that.”

Yamapi pushes his glasses up his nose and splashes in the water a little. “But calling someone beautiful, that’s not exactly an insult.”

“It’s uncomfortable sometimes,” Shige counters. “Even the most beautiful people will believe that they’re not, no matter how much others tell them.”

Yamapi sighs. “Beauty is superficial anyway.” He thinks about himself, with his flawless skin and perfect body, and how everyone only sees him how they want to.

“Hence the metaphor,” Shige points out. “It’s hard to see someone’s actual appearance in the dead of night, isn’t it?”

Hugging his knees, Yamapi feels the water start to soak his clothes and is absolutely careless to it. He’s in shorts anyway, along with a tank top that shows off his muscles and had the natives gawking in the daylight.

“Do you want to know what I see?” Shige asks carefully.

Against his better judgment, Yamapi nods.

“I see the star that shines brighter than the rest,” Shige says in a quiet voice. “There are a lot of stars in the sky, but this one tries the hardest and outshines the others.”

Yamapi nods again. He still doesn’t think he understands the metaphor correctly.

“This star continues to shine, day or night, rain or shine. It shines whether _it_ wants to or not, because it shines for the benefit of the stars around it. It shines without knowing it’s doing so, and its constant shining has made all of the other stars strive to shine as much as this one.”

“They don’t want to shine like this star,” Yamapi mumbles. “Shining too much makes it hollow inside.”

“That’s not true.” Shige chuckles and bumps Yamapi in the shoulder playfully. “If it were hollow inside, it would fall out of the sky. Stars have to be filled with something to stay where they are, and they only shine bright if that substance is beautiful.”

Yamapi sucks both of his lips into his mouth. He has a strong desire to cry, something he hasn’t done for years, also something he isn’t about to do in front of Shige of all people. Just because he said some words… they were nice, really touching words, but they were still just words.

“You should write a song about that,” Yamapi jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “I bet it would be popular.”

“Maybe I will,” Shige says distractedly, now he’s the one staring out to sea. “Since Yamashita-kun suggested it.”

Yamapi buries his face in his knees to hide his blush, except that it’s still dark and according to Shige’s metaphor it could be seen anyway. The quasi-privacy allows his eyes to tear up, which he only permits because it’s not about Shige’s words anymore.

He lifts his head and makes no effort to wipe his eyes. “The other stars shouldn’t rely on that one star just because it shines the brightest,” he says firmly. “The substance inside it isn’t all that great.”

“But it has to be,” Shige insists. “In order to shine that brightly. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it keeps trying and shining, the other stars – particularly this one – will shine for it.”

“Katou-” Yamapi starts, ready to tell him to drop the damn metaphor and just talk to him, because he’s still not sure if he’s getting it and he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions if that’s not what Shige’s really saying, and –

His thoughts come to a halt at the feel of his glasses sliding off of his face. He watches them go and looks at Shige, who is now blurry, as he places the glasses carefully on his leg and swipes the corner of Yamapi’s eyes with his thumb. “I can’t speak for the other stars,” he says with a smile, “but to me, this is the brightest you’ve ever shined.”

Yamapi laughs, not because it’s funny but just because he has an urge to laugh, hard enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut and try to hold still while Shige keeps wiping them. By the time he’s done laughing, his face is dry but the rest of him is not, the tide having long since passed them.

He smiles gratefully when Shige returns his glasses to their rightful place, taking care not to snag Yamapi’s hair or get any smudges on the lenses. Now clear, he can see Shige’s features in the moonlight reflecting off the water and thinks that he has a good idea what Shige was going on about. Shige shines pretty brightly himself, even if nobody else seems to see it.

Yamapi stands first and holds his hand out to Shige, who grabs onto it and almost pulls him back down. Now they’re both laughing, staggering up the beach and back to the cabin where there’s no doubt in Yamapi’s mind that the other four stars are waiting for him to shine for them once again.

And this time he thinks he’ll shine as himself.


End file.
